


get lucky

by jjokkiri



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Flirting, Gambling, Heavy Implications of Gambling Addictions But Make It Sexy, How Do I Tag, Implications of Potential Love At First Sight, M/M, OP Might Know Too Much About Poker, Pre-Relationship, Suggestive Themes, This Is Almost Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Chan finds his good luck charm in a crowd of strangers at the casino. He almost seems to dazzle under the dim lights and Chan thinks he’s hit the jackpot with this one.
Relationships: Do Hanse/Heo Chan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67
Collections: Lucky 7 Victon





	get lucky

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #281:** At the casino, Chan asks a stranger to kiss his last poker chip for good luck, and then he wins big.

The dim lights at the table sharply contrast the bright, neon lights surrounding them. The casino is crowded, people mingle amongst one another quiet whispers behind them. There are busy servers weaving through the crowds of tipsy people who are gauging their luck, there are newcomers psyching themselves up for their first game of the night, and there are flirty players talking up bystanders.

Somehow, though, the atmosphere feels different at the table. There’s a tension that holds the attention of everyone seated at the table. The clicking sound of poker chips being gathered by the dealer sends a rush down each player’s spine. Everyone who is seated doesn’t pay any mind to the world surrounding them. The contrast almost seems to follow the pattern of the lights.

The flickering lights behind them shine with tempting invitations to bet on anything.

It lures people to a life of excitement, bright lights and all. It almost seems to promise something thrilling.

But Chan has never found any interest in betting on slot machines. To him, it always felt better to look his opponents in the eyes and dance with luck while looking danger directly in the eyes. Chan has gambled long enough to know what piques his interest. He knows it’s this.

This is something he can get drunk on.

The feeling of sitting at a poker table is different. Here, Chan can feel the excitement surge through him as he looks down at the surface of the table. His bloodstream almost seems to thrum with thrill when he hears the sound of the cards softly hitting the baize-coated table. His heart skips a beat when he takes the first peek at his cards.

He doesn’t have much left on him when he slips his ante to the center of the table.

The dealer rakes in the chips and deals cards to each player.

Chan watches carefully as the cards hit the table in front of each player.

He holds his breath when he turns up the corner of his cards to peek at his hand.

He sees red before he sees anything else. _An ace of diamonds and a ten of diamonds._

It’s a good start. It’s a strong start.

Chan has faith in his cards bringing home something good.

The dealer turns over the flop. _A king of hearts, a four of spades and a queen of diamonds._

The girl to Chan’s left folds her hand. Chan checks.

The poker chips that were thrown to the center of the table double.

There is a hushed murmur that circles behind them. _Of nine players, only one folded their hand?_ The confidence at the table triggers the spectators’ urge to whisper amongst one another. Chan keeps his attention focused on the game in front of him, though.

His eyes are on the fourth card. He’s waiting for the dealer to reveal the turn.

Chan’s heart races in his chest.

He doesn’t expect to see the jack of diamonds when the dealer turns over the card, but he feels the jolt of excitement shoot down his spine. He almost loses his poker face for a moment.

The outcomes are limited at this point, but this kind of thrill is why he plays.

He pushes his chips into the center of the table and holds onto the last one.

His cards are good. If he risks everything, he has a good chance of winning big. He needs the river to reveal itself as a diamond suit. _Anything goes. A diamond suit and he’ll have a good shot at victory._

But the decision to throw all his chips to the center of the table is a difficult one.

The odds of losing at this point? _Low._

Chan taps his final poker chip against the baize, lips pursed in thought. All eyes are on him.

Deep in thought, he catches the eyes of a stranger among the spectators standing close to him. Only the stranger’s eyes are wandering away from the game. All other eyes are on the table. He has blond hair and he’s wearing sunglasses indoors like an asshole, but something draws Chan’s eyes to him.

He’s dazzling; _pretty_. Chan wonders if his luck is meant to be used for the table or if this pretty stranger is his blessing for the night.

He almost seems to glimmer under the dim lights of the casino. Their eyes meet and the stranger flashes a charming smile at him. It’s barely noticeable but he piques Chan’s interest.

_Wherever his luck may lie tonight, he thinks he can take a risk._

“Hey,” he calls. The man lowers his sunglasses and points to himself. Chan nods his head, grinning. The stranger looks at him with curious eyes, twinkling with interest. He crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head—Chan reads his actions as _‘speak’_.

Chan raises his last chip between his fingers to the stranger, puckering his lips, “For good luck.”

The stranger laughs.

He leans in a little closer and presses a kiss to the chip.

Chan tosses the last chip into the pool. It clatters on impact and falls to the bottom of the pile. _All in._

He leans back in his chair with a confident smirk on his lips.

He doesn’t care that his poker face is cocky.

The chips clatter beside him. At this point in the game, three of the players have folded their cards and there are only six players remaining. The tension is heavy.

Everyone’s eyes shift to watch the last player’s move, anxious after watching Chan push all his chips to the center of the table. Chan’s eyes follow them. His eyes fall to his daring opponent, she’s a confident girl with long, dark hair. She’s pretty and she’s smirking. The cocky look suits her. She pushes her chips into the center of the table, matching Chan’s bet.

Her confidence is worthy of fear, betting all in after Chan.

The dealer rakes in the bets.

The air is tense at the table and no one says a word. The spectators at the table have hushed to watch the remainder of the game unfold. Chan bet his everything into the river and he knows he’s fucked if his luck doesn’t pay out. As long as he sees diamonds, he knows he’s set.

His heart pounds in his chest when the dealer turns over the river. His cockiness never falters but he’s banking all his luck on a stranger’s kiss and the river. He watches the dealer’s hands, his gaze is unyielding. He doesn’t dare to look away for a moment.

If he sees diamonds, he has a chance of victory. He’s waiting for something specific, though, and he can only hope that no one is holding the card he’s waiting for in their hand.

He holds his breath when he sees red at the corner and the thrill has his head spinning.

The card falls against the table from the dealer’s fingers. _The king of diamonds._

His luck cashes out. This was what he was waiting for.

Chan’s heart races. He already knows he’s winning, but he peeks at his cards again.

The flash of red and white hasn’t changed. He’s holding the ace of diamonds and a ten of diamonds in his hands. He’s holding the game in his hands with a Royal Flush. He can’t lose. That’s set in stone.

Then, like a steady wave, all the hands at the table turn to reveal their cards. Chan watches carefully as cross-hatched, dark blue backs turn to patterns of white, red and black.

His eyes focus on the hand of the girl next to him. With so much confidence in her bet, he’s certain that she’s holding something good in her hands. And her hand is what determines what he wins.

Her cards turn over on the table.

He sees face cards; red and black. The other cards register a second later. _Queens—four of a kind._

Chan smirks.

_Jackpot._

* * *

The feeling of victory is a good one. It’s something that pulses through his veins and keeps him walking with a bounce in his step. This is what he wants. This is what he loves. It’s the high he desperately chases when he spends all of his late nights at the casino, under flashing lights. Nothing feels better than the high of victory.

Chan feels good. He feels _really_ good.

He collapses on his bed back at the hotel with the biggest grin stretched across his lips. He doesn’t bother taking off his suit. _A stuffy three-piece suit is comfortable when his pockets are padded with cash._ The rush is still evident in his head, it makes him feel dizzy with joy. He came back to his hotel room several times richer than when he left and he knows he’ll sleep well.

He doesn’t want to fall asleep yet, though. He doesn’t want the thrill of victory to fade away from him as soon as he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

He wants to hold onto the high for as long as he can. He always does.

So, he gets up.

With his pockets loaded, Chan lets his feet take him anywhere.

_Bright city lights? It’s all tempting. He’ll go to them._

At two in the morning, he doesn’t expect to see anyone when he leaves his hotel room.

He doesn’t expect to see many familiar faces on this side of town, either. The only things he’s ever learned to familiarize himself with on this side of town is the matte finish of poker chips and the sound of cards hitting baize.

Expectation rarely comes hand-in-hand with reality, though. Chance is chance and he supposes that, along with his big win, chance is giving him an extra treat.

As soon as he closes the door of his hotel room, Chan nearly runs into someone. _A man who is closing the door of his own hotel room._

Chan sees blond. And then, he sees familiar eyes hidden behind sunglasses and a familiar gleam in those eyes. _Who in the world wears sunglasses indoors at two in the morning?_ is the thought that crosses his mind before the realization hits him.

Chan looks back up at the man and he sees the pretty man who had an aura strong enough to pull his attention away from his cards. He sees his good luck charm.

“Hey!” Chan calls, recognition in his eyes. “You’re the guy who kissed my poker chip.”

At the sound of Chan’s voice, the man turns his head to look at him.

Even with his sunglasses on, his eyes still seem to sparkle, even under the incandescent lights in the hotel hallway. His entire being almost seems to shine. There must just be something about the man that always seems bright if he can shine in such a plain scene.

(Chan has an absent thought that wonders if this could be infatuation.)

When he looks at Chan, recognition flickers in his eyes. Chan barely catches it. There’s an amused smile on his lips. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks Chan up and down. Chan feels the need to straighten his posture.

“Did you win?” he asks.

Chan chuckles. He shrugs his shoulders as nonchalantly as possible, “I can’t believe you gave me luck and didn’t even stick around to see me rake in the jackpot.”

The man’s eyes glitter and he laughs.

“My, my, I’m talking to a big winner?” he raises an eyebrow at Chan.

“I think I have you to thank,” Chan says. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks and shifts his weight. He grins.

The stranger lowers his sunglasses and smiles at him. There’s mischief in the smile and he looks Chan up and down again. He asks, “Does my ‘thank you’ involve something nice?”

Chan purses his lips.

“Depends on what you consider ‘something nice’,” Chan says. The stranger tilts his head.

“Oh, I don’t know? Do I get an award? A special title?” His eyes glitter and he flashes a flirtatious smile, “A kiss on the cheek?”

 _A kiss on the cheek?_ Chan wouldn’t mind.

“Before we decide what your ‘thank you’ gift is, can I get a name to go with my good luck charm?” he asks. The words roll off his tongue well; easily. Chan hopes it sounds classy enough to pass as eloquent but just flirty enough to be smooth.

The stranger laughs. He offers his hand for a shake.

“I’m Hanse,” he says before winking, “your good luck charm.”

Chan takes his hand into his own. Hanse’s hand feels soft and it fits nicely in his hands. He decides he likes how it feels. He squeezes gently.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hanse. I’m Chan,” he says. He flashes what he hopes is a charming smile, “How does a midnight dinner sound?”

* * *

It turns out that he and Hanse have a lot more in common than he would have thought.

He should have figured when Hanse agreed to a dinner date at three in the morning. But Chan finds himself impressed with Hanse. He doesn't know if it's the thrilling feeling of victory still pulsing through his veins that makes him feel like taking risks or if it's Hanse, but he feels like he could risk anything as long as it's tonight. _As long as he's here._

Running into a stranger in a familiar town is something unfamiliar to him. It isn't something he would usually do. Chan keeps to himself and he doesn't mingle with other people often. Even in the dim lights of the casino, Chan keeps to himself.

He keeps his cards carefully hidden in his hands. He keeps his identity quiet and unsuspecting. He doesn't do much to stand out in the crowd. It's different from Hanse, who seems to glow like a thousand stars under the dimmest light. It's different from Hanse who seems to pull attention towards himself wherever he goes.

Someone like that, Chan isn't sure how they could feel similar, but he feels comfortable when he's walking underneath the moonlight with a near-stranger.

Hanse is a risk.

Hanse is a risk that Chan feels he is willing to take because his hands feel comfortable when they're holding onto Hanse's. He feels something flutter in his chest when he looks at Hanse smiling and he doesn't know if it's some kind of bewitching effect that the blond-haired man has on everyone, but it's a risk he's willing to take.

If he falls victim to a pretty boy with a pretty smile, that's on him.

Hanse is a risk that Chan is walking right into. With his eyes wide open, with his defence down, because Hanse took him by storm. _Something like fate._

"Do you ask people to kiss your poker chips often?" Hanse asks.

Hanse is leaning against the railing on the pier, looking back at Chan who stands a couple of steps away from him. They stand facing the lake and the water glistens under the moonlight. (Chan still thinks Hanse looks like he might shine brighter.)

"What makes you ask that?" Chan counters. He shoves his hands into his pockets and chuckles. "It's not like I wait for good luck charms to come to me. You're my first."

Hanse laughs. He tilts his head and lowers his sunglasses.

"Who knows," he says. "You might be a player who flirts with random people in the casino in hopes of winning big and taking them out for dinner. Maybe you take all those pretty people to the pier and flirt with them. You seem to know the place well."

Chan rolls his eyes.

"You're my first good luck charm," he says. "I promise you that you're the first person I've taken to the pier after sharing a midnight dinner."

Hanse smiles. He lifts his sunglasses and rests them on the top of his head. He gives Chan a look, "Am I also the first date you've stood so far away from?"

Chan flushes. He feels the embarrassment seep into his bones. He looks away.

Hanse's laughter is worth the burn of embarrassment, though. It's a bright sound that has Chan's eyes moving right back to him.

It's almost amazing, the way that Hanse's aura commands attention. It's almost amazing, the way that Hanse draws attention right to him. _The way that Hanse draws Chan's attention right to him._

"What are you standing so far away for?" he asks. He leans back against the railing on the pier and faces the water. The breeze brushes through his hair gently. "Come a little closer, Chan. I won't bite."

Chan chuckles and shakes his head.

He takes a step closer to him. And another.

He leans against the railing next to Hanse, resting his elbows against the metal rail, and he turns his head to look at him. There is a small smile on his lips.

"Close enough?" he asks.

Hanse laughs. He flashes a boyish grin and the twinkle in his eye returns, "You could be closer. I'm not going to complain about it."

"How close should I be?"

Hanse leans a little closer to him. The smile on his lips is mischievous.

"Close enough to give me that reward? What was it, a kiss on the cheek?" he teases. "Isn't that the least I deserve for being your good luck charm?"

Chan laughs. He raises an eyebrow at Hanse.

"You were serious?"

Hanse flutters his lashes playfully. "Tell me why I wouldn't be."

Chan tilts his head. He chuckles quietly, "Do you still want one?"

"A kiss for a kiss, Chan," Hanse says. He raises two of his fingers, miming an invisible poker chip and presses his fingers to his lips. "You owe me."

Chan grins. "So, should I kiss your fingers?"

Hanse taps the two fingers against his cheek.

"You can do whatever you want," he says, "but I have some preferences."

Chan's eyes glimmer.

"Do you ask strangers to kiss you often?" he asks.

Hanse laughs.

"I don't," he says. "You're the first."

"I don't know if I should believe you," Chan muses. He chuckles, "You seem like the convincing type, Hanse. The type of guy who can get a kiss from anyone."

Hanse flutters his lashes, "You don't want to be an exception if you're correct, do you?"

Chan rests his weight against the railing, his elbow resting on top of the metal bar. He reaches out to pull Hanse a little closer to himself, his hand is placed just at the back of Hanse's neck and he gently guides Hanse closer. Hanse takes the step forward to move closer to him. There is a small, coy smile on his lips and he looks up at Chan under long lashes. When he smiles like that, there's a small dimple that indents his cheek; endearing.

Gently, Chan leans in to press a kiss to it.

"You look pretty when you smile like that," he says, quietly.

Hanse’s eyes glimmer. He smiles, “Thank you.”

Then, he moves. He steps in front of Chan and cages him between his arms against the railing; it’s casual and comfortable. Chan’s hands instinctively move to gently wrap around Hanse’s waist. He leans back against the railing to look at Hanse.

Hanse looks up at him, a coy smile on his lips.

He says, "Tell me, how lucky were you planning on getting tonight, Chan?"

Chan takes a deep breath.

* * *

(It turns out that Hanse only means to offer him his number with a coquettish smile on his lips.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells Chan he knew what his words implied.)

* * *

"Have you ever stayed up past dawn with someone?"

They stand on the rooftop of the hotel, neither willing to retire to their rooms for the night. Hanse is perched on top of the railing on the rooftop, his feet dangling off the inside of the ledge. Chan leans against the railing next to him, just close enough to hear him whispering over the gentle breeze.

There isn’t much to do at this hour. Outside of the casino, the city is asleep, but they’re wide awake and they don’t want to let the night end. Chan doesn’t want to let Hanse go yet.

He feels like a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

The sun is slowly creeping at the horizon, but the sky is dark. Chan hasn't seen the sunrise in years. He only remembers it from long, tiring nights in university when he stayed up all night to finish his assignments. Those years were long gone.

Seeing the sunrise again with a stranger makes it feel like he’s someone different. Someone who barely remembers the fragments he used to be before he threw his life into the high of taking risks. He feels like a stranger to himself. And he wonders how much a stranger Hanse still is to him.

"No," Chan says. "Never with someone."

"Always alone?" Hanse looks over his shoulder at him.

"Always alone," he echoes. "It's been years since I've stayed up past dawn, though."

Hanse tilts his head. There is a trace of an amused smile on his lips. "You have a gambling curfew?"

Chan laughs.

"I do," he says. "I can't play all night. I just play until I win."

Hanse purses his lips. He hops off the ledge and clasps his hands behind his back as he steps closer to Chan. He looks at Chan with curiosity in his eyes.

"Do you ever keep playing after you win?"

Chan meets his eyes.

"Once," he admits. He keeps his eyes level with Hanse’s. "One time, I hit the jackpot and I ran into another lucky opportunity. I stayed up late toying with that."

Hanse stops leaning closer to him. He tilts his head.

"What happened after that?"

Chan looks at him.

"I don't know," he says. "I'm still trying to figure it out."

Hanse’s eyes flicker across Chan’s expression. His lips curve into a smile.

He chuckles, “What are you hoping to get out of it?”

Chan leans back against the railing, elbows perched on top of the metal. He tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. Then, he turns to look at Hanse with a faint smile on his lips.

“Something more than a phone number?” he suggests, “Something longer than just one night?”

“Are you afraid you’ll lose your luck if I disappear?” Hanse teases.

Chan chuckles. He shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s not luck I’m afraid of losing. It’s you.”

Hanse tilts his head. “You don’t want to lose me? Have you become so attached to me already?”

“If I lose you,” he says, “I don’t think I was lucky at all.”

Hanse crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s all the money you won for?”

Chan laughs.

“Hanse,” he says, “if you had a million chances to win the lottery, would you take that over a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet an angel?”

“I’m not an angel.”

Chan raises his fingers to gently touch Hanse’s chin. He guides Hanse to tilt his head so their eyes meet. For a moment, he stares at him in silence. He simply gazes at him, admiring his face.

He looks until Hanse tears his eyes away, shyly.

“You are to me,” he says. “I’m willing to bet you _are_ an angel.”

Hanse swats at him, rolling his eyes.

“Okay there, you cheesy fucker. I won’t make any bets with you,” he says. “It’s too risky. You’re lucky.”

Chan’s lips curve into a small smile.

He pulls Hanse closer. He wraps his arm around the other man’s waist. Hanse leans against him, looking up at him from under long, dark lashes.

“Yeah?” Chan brushes Hanse’s hair out of his eyes. His smile turns fond when their eyes meet, “Tell me, good luck charm, am I lucky enough to get a second date?”

(Hanse answers him with a kiss.)


End file.
